Cocoa and Company
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: They're snowed in, but somehow neither seem to mind.


_For the Through the Holidays Challenge (December: getting caught in a blizzard) and the Great 2016 Cotillion_

* * *

She's long since stopped caring that Kingsley drops by the pub so late. With all that he has on his plate as the Minister, it's no problem to keep her door open just for him long after she's sent the last of her patrons on their way.

"Rough day?" she asks, sitting across from him at his table, summoning the firewhiskey with a quick wave of her wand. It's his second glass, which always means that he has a lot on his mind.

Kingsley sighs, pouring the drink himself. "Long month. December has to be hard for everyone," he says. "With the holidays so close, and so many loved ones gone."

He shakes his head before drinking deeply, draining the glass in one go. She almost wishes that he would request a third glass. Rosmerta has grown quite fond of his company, and she likes to think that he feels the same about her, given his frequent visits.

But he rises to his feet, stumbling slightly from liquor and exhaustion. "Easy now," she soothes, clucking her tongue. "Got to keep yourself steady, Minister."

"Kingsley," he corrects with a deep chuckle. "I think we're familiar enough to use first names."

"Kingsley," she agrees, walking him to the door.

When she opens it, she's greeted by a mess of swirling white and an icy burst of wind that chills her to the bone. Instinctively, she presses herself closer to him, watching the snow rapidly build up at their feet. "I don't think you're in any condition to Apparate in this weather," she says. "Thought we weren't due for a blizzard for another few days."

"I'll be fine, Rosmerta," he insists, stepping outside and taking his warmth with him.

Reluctantly, she follows him, pulling her cloak tighter around her shivering body. Merlin! She's following a man out in a bloody snowstorm. She must be out of her mind. "Oh. Sure. Apparate just wrong, and you'll end up buried in the snow," she grumbles, her teeth chattering. "We need you not frozen, Kingsley."

He sighs and turns to her. "I can always just Floo-"

"Got my connection taken out years ago," she says. "Too many people coming through, too much extra mess for me to clean. No thank you."

Her cloak offers little protection from frozen air, but she pulls it even tighter. If it were anyone else, just some nameless soul, she might have let him do as he pleased. But she's come to care for Kingsley too much over the past few months. "Come on, love. I have an extra room upstairs," she offers. "Storm will pass by morning, and you can leave then."

Kingsley seems to consider this. Somehow, he seems oblivious to the cold. She wonders if his mind is so cluttered by his duties that he doesn't even notice.

"First thing in the morning," he agrees with a small nod.

Rosmerta slumps with relief. She doesn't know how much longer she could have lasted outside trying to persuade him. She takes his hand gently in her own and leads him back inside, gratefully closing the door behind them.

…

"Everything okay?" she asks, feeling ridiculously nervous.

She's let others stay in her spare room, but none have ever made her worry that anything might be less than perfect.

Kingsley sits on the bed, wrapped in a blanket. "Couldn't be better," he assures her.

She grins, lifting the mugs in her hands. "I'm sure it could. I brought you some hot cocoa," she says. "I love a cup before bed during the winter."

He takes his mug, inhaling the rich, sweet smell, a smile curling at his lips. "I can't remember that last time I had a good cocoa," he laughs, sipping it carefully. "Thank you."

"I'd better get to bed, then. I'm just down the hall if you need me."

"Wait," he calls as she begins to back away. He pats a spot next to him on the mattress. "I could really use the company tonight."

Rosmerta feels an eruption of fluttering in her stomach at his request. A smile tugs at her lips, and she smiles, sitting beside him.

At first, neither speak. They sit there in silence, enjoying their drinks. It's a comfortable silence, she realizes happily. There's no awkwardness, no need to pierce it with mindless trivial chatter.

Then Kingsley sighs, setting his empty mug on the bedside table. He leans forward, resting his face in his hands. "You've been a tremendous blessing to me, Rosmerta," he says. "I know I'm an inconvenience, always coming in after you've closed. But you've been the closes thing I have to sanity lately."

"I really don't mind, Kingsley," she says gently, placing a cautious hand on his back.

He drops his hands and leans back, his eyes heavy. "I don't know how I would have survived the last few months without you."

There's that flutter in her stomach again. Rosmerta can feel the color creep into her cheeks. "You're strong. I'm sure you could have managed," she assures him, setting her mug beside his.

He takes her hand, pulling her gently against him. The heat in her cheeks intensifies, but somehow she doesn't mind.

"I hope I'm not being too forward," he says, and it's the first time she's ever seen Kingsley Shacklebolt, the leader of their community, the bold war hero, look so uncertain.

"Not at all," she whispers, curling against him, her eyes closing, her body relaxing.

…

He's gone when she wakes. Rosmerta looks for a note and tries to fight back her disappointment when she comes up empty handed.

Of course it hadn't meant anything. Not to him, at least. He's the Minister, and she's just a barmaid.

With a sigh, Rosmerta makes her way to her own room to change clothes for the day.

…

When the patrons have long since gone, her door opens. Rosmerta feels her heart leap with relief as Kingsley walks in. "Sorry to just leave this morning," he says with a smile that tells her that his apology is genuine. "You looked so peaceful. I didn't have the heart to wake you."

Rosmerta leans against the bar, a grin on her lips. "What'll it be tonight?" she asks. "Firewhiskey? Ice Gin?"

"I think I'd like some cocoa and company, actually."


End file.
